


the Fox, the Raven, and the Rain

by Luci_Cunt



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Detective AU, Thunder and Lightning, Yeah Baby, and I think that's very sexy of them, andrew is a detective, neil is shady, noir, seth is dead and I'm sorry but he was loved, there's no actual shippage sorry I just wanted to be dramatic, xDDD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luci_Cunt/pseuds/Luci_Cunt
Summary: Andrew Minyard works as a private eye, he's pretty good but has a bad habit of only taking cases that interest him. The biggest problem with that–he's a hard man to interest.Queue local mystery and possibly homeless enigma Neil Josten–if that's even his real name–and a very nicely timed lightning storm and Andrew just might have something new to chew on.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	the Fox, the Raven, and the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> a;kjsdfak I'm dealing with writers block for my other fic (the RWRB one) and I cracked this out and now hopefully I can go back to the actual fic I'm supposed to be working on XDD.
> 
> Heads up this is probably just gonna be a one shot, but I also know I have the absolute worst track record for saying that and then thinking up a whole plot and not being able to stop myself sO–
> 
> might be more, might not, hopefully someone likes this XDD I had fun writing it.

Lightning flashed through the humid summer night, illuminating Andrew’s dark office in silent flashes that arced across the cloudy midnight sky. All the sporadic and blinding light showed was a bare office with a mahogany desk covered in ashtrays and empty bottles of liquor. He'd been between jobs for too long, and something interesting needed to happen.

The lightning flashed again, followed by a quick rumble of thunder and suddenly a figure appeared as a silhouette in his window. The backwards 'Private Eye, Minyard' sign on the door taller than the figure, who knocked.

Andrew never should have let the man in, but he wouldn't know that until later... much later…

For now though, he narrowed his eyes at the door but called out, admitting the man in as he tossed his thick booted feet up onto his desk and reclined in his chair, striking a match to light a cigarette. 

A strike of lightning and the flare of the match flame showed Andrew a snapshot of the stranger. He looked small, shoulders hunched and eyes darting around the room. Another flash and Andrew caught his clothes, ragged looking, drenched. A final strike, this one possibly the brightest, with the rain slashing against the windows and pounding on the walls, Andrew catches the man’s stare. 

To any other man it would be chilling. It was cold, completely empty of any spark of sympathy or empathy. It was the kind of gaze that Andrew could almost see behind, could almost see the gears turning as the man’s eyes traveled down Andrew, lingering on the armbands exposed by the rolled up dress shirt, and barely skated over the gun left discarded on the table.

Andrew couldn’t be certain the man knew the gun was empty, but for a startling moment, he almost believed he did. 

Andrew clicked on the desk lamp before the lightning could add anything to the man’s intriguing mystic. Yellow light splashed through the room, casting shadows and ominous dark corners. It also revealed that the man standing in front of Andrew’s desk, was more of a feral looking boy than the vicious killer the lightning had cast him as. The honeyed light showed the boy had sandy colored hair cropped short and above his ears. Andrew recognized the frayed aftermath of a bleach job. He also had brown eyes, not dark enough to be intimidating but not light enough to be interesting. 

“Are you Andrew Minyard?” the man asked, Andrew kept scanning him, before raising his flat gaze to the mans eyes. 

“It is what the door says,” he said, the man rolled his eyes. 

“You could be a thief for all I know, I’ve never seen the real Minyard,” he said, and despite the warm lighting Andrew saw flashes of the menace he’d first recognized, and it had nothing to do with the lightning.

“What’s it matter to you? If I’m not the real Minyard then he’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, which means your case probably won’t be solved either way,” Andrew said, contemplating his fingernails with a distant boredom. The man’s face pinched. 

“What’s that mean? Either?” he asked.

“You’ve got to be interesting for me to accept you as a client,” Andrew explained, eyes flicked back up to the man, who winced at that for some reason. Andrew cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “What? Don’t like being memorable?” he asked slowly. The man scowled. 

“I need your help, and I have the money to pay you,” he said, avoiding the question, and now Andrew’s stare. His brown eyes instead fixed on one of the empty bottles of alcohol occupying the floor. Andrew didn’t say anything, waiting for the man to expand. 

_Flash._

His eyes were back, now with a scowl. 

“Well?” he snapped impatiently, Andrew waved his hand and yawned. 

“Well what? I’m waiting for you to interest me,” Andrew said, the man looked away again. 

“My… my friend, she has– _had_ a fiancé, Seth Gordon, he was a reporter for the Palmetto Fox. Two days ago he died. The cops say it was suicide–an overdose. Allison’s convinced it wasn’t, and I don’t know what to think. Seth wasn’t exactly known for keeping his nose out of things that could get him in trouble,” the man explained. 

“Was Gordon a druggie?” Andrew asked, at this the man bit his lip. 

“Recovering,” he said at length. 

“Do you believe her?” 

“I said I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t usually work for liars,” Andrew said, and the man’s eyes snapped up to him, barely contained anger sizzling just below his skin. 

“I’m not lying,” he insisted. 

“I’m not cheap, and unless you’re fucking the widow, you wouldn’t come here without believing her,” Andrew said.

“I think… I think that Seth got in over his head, and it cost him,” the man’s eyes darted around as he spoke, like he expected someone to pop out of the shadows and slit his throat for admitting it.

“What’s your name?” Andrew asked, the man bit his lip again, and then seemed to force himself to relax. 

_Flash._

“Neil, Neil Josten.” Andrew hummed at that.

“Well, Neil, just what was Gordon poking into that he shouldn’t have been?” 

_Flash._

“Ravens.”


End file.
